


Love Your Demons

by Skeletons_to_Ashes



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Amnesia, Cheating, Drama, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Memory Loss, POV Third Person, Post-Canon, Post-Game, Sexual Content, warnings might come in later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-04-01 10:05:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4015645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skeletons_to_Ashes/pseuds/Skeletons_to_Ashes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years after Grima's defeat, Chrom is still struggling to deal with Robin's death, and clinging to the idea that the tactician will return to him one day. However, when he stumbles upon Robin once again, the man cannot recall anything that happened. Chrom is forced to try to regain Robin's trust, and restore his memories while making sense of his own feelings towards the other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fractured

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to write this for a long time, but it was difficult for me to try to get into Chrom's head, as I've been role-playing Robin for almost a year now (which is where this idea comes from). I hope I can make sense of Chrom's character as I write this!

Morning again. The sun’s blinding rays, and bright skies only brought with them the painful reminder that today would be another day spent on a fruitless search. Such thoughts now constantly clogged the Exalt’s mind, as his boots shoved through the damp grass and mud that still contained his footprints from the day prior. Trudging along the very same path he had taken everyday for the past two years. Yet, even his own familiarity with course didn’t make the trek any easier on his wavering mind. Lissa and Fredrick had once aided him with his tireless search, but after a year they had given up, leaving Chrom to his near obsessive attempts to locate the former tactician. 

Exhausted eyes dragged lazily along the beaten ground, as his eyelids struggled to remain open. Dark circles now the king’s most prominent feature upon his hollow face wrinkled with his skin when he squinted against the harsh morning light. A hand ran through his greasy hair, and he pushed his aching legs forward. Trembling feet that had once been able to walk for hours now struggled to walk this path the three or four times he forced himself through it each day. His cheat heaved, and he panted as he walked; fallen so far from grace. Muscles that had once worked effortlessly to move him could barely motivate him to step off of the road to venture towards the end of his route. He couldn’t recall the amount of weight he had lost in these two years, but he knew Fredrick’s constant efforts to care for him were very likely the only thing keeping him afloat. 

A heavy, forced breath beat past his chapped his lips, as a mocking smile formed on the Exalt’s lips. He tried to sallow the anxiety that always settled within his stomach when he drew ever closer to that damnable field he had first found the tactician in. Heart skipping a beat uncontrollably. He had walked this path at least a thousand times, and, even still a small part of him wanted to believe that one day he would find Robin sleeping on the ground all over again. And, this time, he wouldn’t allow himself to make the same mistakes he had in the past. The mistakes that still haunted him beside the always present image of Robin vanishing before his eyes; slipping through his fingers like sand. 

He bit his lip. Willing away the thoughts. All too often he found himself focused entirely on the tactician instead of repairing the damage he had done to his kingdom and family in his grief. But those ideas didn’t bring peace to him any more than the regrets revolving around Robin’s sacrifice. His sister would be ashamed of him now. 

Shaking his head to clear his mind, and cling to what little sanity the Exalt still held, he crossed over onto the lush grass of the field. Feeling it give way beneath his body, as he stepped out onto to its normally peaceful surface. Wet grass swayed slowly in the gentle breeze; the only motion that settled onto the quiet field. As if to Mock Chrom as he huffed against the wind. He had been here so many times he had memorized every pattern, abnormal or not, that nestled itself into the ground. Still he felt his heart stop for a brief moment when he noticed, rather far from where he stood, the grass seemed to be pushing against something, flowing in a manner he had not recalled in years. But with it came a lump in his throat that he could barely manage to force back down. So many times he had thought he had seen something here only to discover it had been his imagination playing tricks on him. 

But he couldn’t stop himself no matter how much his mind tried to reason with his throbbing heart, and he was sprinting towards the spot before he even had the chance to register that he was moving. Eyes widening slowly, and hopefully as he neared despite his better judgment. A dent in the grass was clear now, and he nearly tripped over his own two feet as he sped up. Running faster than he had in more time than he cared to acknowledge, as he threw himself onto the ground before the lump cradled within the grass. Something burned at the corners of his eyes, as they wandered over the familiar colors of a dark robe, and cream pants. A hood he knew all too well was drawn up over the stranger’s face. 

With shaking hands, Chrom reached forward carefully, tugging back the hood as quietly as he could manage in his breathless state. Revealing white hair, and a smooth face that looked at him only in dreams now. Yanking his hand away, he felt his lips quiver, and heart stop. “R-Robin?” He muttered the name he had so longed to get the chance to say once again. But his voice shook, and he found himself calling the other man’s name as a hopeful question rather than a joyful cry. 

Beside him the stranger shifted slightly, and his eyes opened slowly. A smile formed on Chrom’s lips, as he tried to keep himself from bringing the other man into his arms; in an attempt to keep himself as calm as he could manage in his current state. “I see you’re awake,” He forced out, trying to remain light-hearted, as he extended his hand to the tactician. 

Yet, Robin’s eyes only widened in confusion, as he sat up quickly. Hands pressing firmly into the grass, as he scooted back from Chrom. A hand rushed up to cup his aching head into his palm, as a hiss of pain slipped past his mouth. _No_ , Chrom found himself repeating the word over and over again in his head, as he gazed down on the man before him. _No, it can’t be…_ He didn’t want the possibility to even cross his mind, but the more he looked at Robin the worse the situation became. He found his outstretched hand shaking, and his arm throbbing from the effort it took for him to keep his offered hand extended. 

“Robin,” He repeated, a bit more firmly this time. Briefly the white-haired man tore his attention away from the pain surging through his body to glance at Chrom. Mild relief washed over Chrom at the man’s response to his name. If he could recall his name, he remembered then, right? Coughing to clear his throat, Chrom managed to utter the first line he had said to the tactician when he had found him in this very spot the first time around, “There are better places to take a nap then on the ground, you know?” Praying that his words could jog some part of the weary man’s memories. 

“Who are you?” Robin managed to breathe through gritted teeth, eyes fixed on Chrom with a look of concern and confusion. Chrom felt his heart drop into his stomach, as horror washed over his face. Mouth locking tightly to avoid dropping open, and gaze falling to the ground in a pitiful attempt to choke back his own fears. 

_No, this can’t be happening._ He tried to convince himself that he was merely dreaming, but he had felt the stiffness of the fabric that made up Robin’s hood against his own skin when he had moved it. The other’s voice was vivid, not faded like it was in his dreams. And he could feel the pain of his own chest along with the throbbing of his worn feet. He could still see the tracks he had made in the mud on the way here. And he could feel the softness of the cool breeze brushing against the bare skin of his arm. 

Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to speak, “My name is Chrom. Do you remember me, Robin?” He kept saying the other’s name, as if to confirm that this was real; that this person before him was truly Robin. He found himself praying that somehow this was all dream. Yet, guilt still weaved itself into his mind. Robin was alive, shouldn’t that be good enough for him? 

Gripping his head harder, Robin glanced away from the man before him. Knuckles turning white with the pressure he was forcing against his own skull As if digging through the foggiest part of his mind for an answer to Chrom’s question. “No,” He finally managed to say. “Robin,” He added quietly, and Chrom felt his heart break. “Is that my name?” When the other man finished his question, Chrom could barely keep himself from shouting everything at him. But he bit his lip, and held himself back. This wasn’t Robin’s fault. This was his fault. It had always been his fault. If only he had stopped Robin. If only he had fought Grima in Robin’s place. But those were selfish thoughts. 

“It is. Do you remember anything at all?” His voice was desperate, pleading, and even a fool could have noticed it. 

Robin offered the other a nervous, almost distrustful glance that made Chrom’s already strained heart struggle all the more. “No. Not much, I’m afraid.” 

Those words were like a dagger plunged straight into the Exalt’s chest. “I’m so sorry, Robin.” He tore himself away from the glare that set itself upon Robin’s features. “Will you trust me?” The other looked tired, and he could see his face creasing in pain. Right now the best thing Chrom could do for the tactician was give him somewhere safe to rest. Drilling him now would only further hurt the other. 

Hesitation made silence sink in around them. Chrom couldn’t blame the other man if he turned him down. And he felt his odds slipping away with each second that passed until Robin managed to mutter, “Yes.”


	2. Be Still

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the late update, I struggled a bit with how quickly I wanted this story to progress, and have decided that a slower pace for it will fit best. I'll try to be more timely with updates in the future. 
> 
> Also, thank you for your support. The comments left on the first chapter mean a lot to me, and I am very sorry for not responding to them yet I am both a weenie and barely know how to use this website.

With a trembling hand; one both terrified and tired, the Exalt collected what little strength remained in his neglected body, and extended his arm once again. A smile crept painfully onto his pallid face, but it meant little to both himself and the stranger that sat on the ground before him. Through drained eyes he could see the distrust that still lingered on the former tactician’s visage, and Chrom could feel another lump threatening to form in his throat with each second he spent scanning over the other man. He could see Robin’s collarbones protruding from beneath the thick robes that draped awkwardly over his body; thinner than Chrom had recalled the other ever being in the past. Face nearly as pale as his own, and hair wet from the morning dew and his sweat, hung against his forehead, and plastered against his neck. From where he stood above Robin, he could spot scars he had not been able to count before through the worn, and torn clothing that covered his shivering body. And it was all Chrom could do to not drown the other in his grief and regret. 

Gingerly, Robin reached out to set his hand in Chrom’s palm. Weak fingers barely able to wrap around the man’s hand. Taking a firm hold on Robin’s unsteady hand, Chrom planted his boots into the ground, and carefully yanked the other man onto his feet. Hand still holding Robin’s tightly even once the other managed to stumble up. The fear of him vanishing, even while he still had a hold on him, plagued the back of Chrom’s mind. He was too terrified to release the point of contact he had that was serving as his only reminder that Robin was very much here in flesh and blood. That the heat radiating from his hand, and the sensation of his skin against the Exalt’s were very much real. He felt himself squeezing Robin’s hand tighter and tighter, as if he would slip away from him if he didn’t hold onto him with all of his might. 

He felt Robin’s gaze linger on him for a long moment, and he was quick to pull his hand away when he realized how tightly he had been grasping Robin’s. He brought a fisted hand to his lips, and coughed awkwardly into it in order to regain what little composure he could manage. “L-Let me help you,” Chrom choked out, rushing to Robin’s side. And while the other seemed uneasy, he still allowed Chrom to wrap an arm around his waist, and leaned into him. Robin’s legs shaky, and weak; he felt he would fall if the other man didn’t support him. 

“Where are we going?” There was still a certain sting to Robin’s words that shredded into Chrom’s heart. A part of him could tell this man didn’t fully trust him, and it hurt. It hurt more than many of the trails the Exalt had faced in the past. It made his chest tighten up in a way he didn’t know or understand. 

“My home-our home, to get you help. I promise it is not far from here,” Chrom stated, hoping his words would reassure the other, if only slightly. With his hand on Robin’s side, he began to lead the man back in the direction he had come from. His own body was aching, and the added weight the other man was placing on him was pushing his exhausted muscles, but despite how sore they had felt moments ago, he could feel nothing now. His own pain didn’t even register in his mind, as he walked with Robin. Hand able to feel the other’s rip cage through his cloak, and the trembling of his body against his palm. All concern he had held for himself previously was gone, and his mind was only focused on Robin’s weakened state along his determination to get the other man to safety. 

“Take it easy,” Chrom pleaded, feeling the sharp inhale of the other man’s chest against his own. “You’re safe now.” But no matter how many times he repeated the words, he knew Robin didn’t trust him; didn’t remember him. They were strangers now. Yet, Robin relaxed at his side, nearly all of his weight on Chrom now, as the Exalt moved towards the small town he made his rounds through everyday in order to reach that field, and, he thought, for a moment, that this would be the last time he would have to step foot in that horrid place. Or, rather, he prayed. 

Yet, the once lush town had suffered greatly during the war. It’s crystal waters now dyed a filthy gray, and its buildings were in varying forms of ruin; some functioning and others in too many pieces to put back together. The ground was coated in grime; stained from the battles that had been both won and lost at its border. The bandits Chrom had fought off here with Robin seemed like a distant memory when the people looting about the village scattered at the sight of the blue-haired man that had once protected them. Grapping hold of their stained baskets, clothes, and children, and darting for the nearest. Bandits would have been more welcomed than the Exalt now, Chrom mused briefly. 

“Why do they run from you?” Robin breathed out beside Chrom. Eyes no longer fixed on the Exalt, as he watched the villagers slam doors, and lock windows. Unable to make out the hushed whispers, as children were hurried indoors as fast as their scruffy parents could manage, even tossing aside food or baskets in order to reach safety faster. There was fear in their hurried steps, and it was hard for Robin not to concern himself with their appearance and the condition the village was in. 

“War is heavy, but recovering from one may be even more so,” Chrom began, a frown setting itself against his lips. He had made so many mistakes that he couldn’t bear to admit them all. So caught up with finding Robin; so obsessed with the idea that this man was alive somewhere, he had neglected his own country. And progress had been slow as a result; the public’s opinion of him wavering until only recently when he had managed to pick himself up again for the sake of the kingdom he didn’t deserve. Even so, the months he had spent dismissing his people had ruined him, and even those who had followed him faithfully before now found themselves questioning his ability to lead, and if he was even trustworthy at all. “It’s my fault,” Chrom admitted softly. 

“Yet, you expect me to place my trust in you?” Oh, the Exalt knew the errors of his ways, and spent every waking moment of his life trying to atone for the mistakes he had made; to become a ruler his sister would have been proud of. And those bitter words struck him harsher than any of the fearful glances the villagers were sending towards him. Yes, he wanted Robin to trust him; more than he had wanted anything in the years since the man had vanished in his arms. He knew his motivates were selfish, and he couldn’t ask Robin for anything more than what the man had already done for him.

“No, I don’t, but I trust you.” Robin turned to him, confusion streaking across his tired face. “I must do what I can, however, to help others.” For a moment Chrom questioned his words, as the other man went silent, but he felt him relax once again. His breathing was strained, but he felt the shaking of Robin’s body begin to ease, yet he could see how Robin struggled. With each step he felt more and more weight placed onto him, and he could tell the other man was stumbling; unable to keep up with Chrom even at his slowest pace. 

“We’ll stay here for now,” Chrom spoke up, as he came to a halt. He didn’t doubt that his loyal knight wouldn’t come searching for him if he didn’t return by nightfall, and he placed all of his faith in the fact to ensure Robin’s safety. 

“I’m fine.” Even without his memories, Robin could still read him like an open book. 

“If you won’t remain for your sake, will you do so for mine?” Chrom asked, attempting to reason with the other. Robin hesitated for a long moment, and Chrom feared he would fight him on this matter, but eventually he simply nodded. A smile slipped across the Exalt’s features, as he lead Robin over to a ledge at the edge of the town’s square, releasing his hold on the other to help him sit down against it. “Wait for just a bit,” He pleaded, “Someone will come for us sooner rather than later.” Frederick was reliable at least. Leaning against the wall beside Robin, he cast a glance in the direction of the castle. Truly it shouldn’t take the man long to search this town for him, as he had already been out far later than was normal for him. And, sure enough, he was very much correct in assumption, spotting a certain knight in shinning armor after only a few hours of waiting.


	3. This Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not good at keeping an upload schedule, so I apologize for how randomly I update! I'm little nervous about writing other characters, but I suppose, nothing ventures nothing gained!

Chapped lips pushed together firmly, yet a pained groan still managed to shove its way past them. A hand lazily lifted to press against his forehead, fingers rubbing into his skin to slowly massage his throbbing skull beneath. Clenching his jaw, he swallowed the urge to release another uncomfortable moan in response to the nagging pain. Instead, his fingers ghosted over the sheets, taking hold of them tightly before he forced all of his weight onto his arm in order to push himself upright upon the bed. Soft eyes slowly willed themselves open. Bright light broke into his vision, making him squint against the intrusion. The hand upon his head gripped his skull as hard as he could manage while his eyes took their sweet time adjusting to the light. His already aching mind taking the chance to replay the only events could recall; of waking in a field to that strange man, and of being brought to this castle by a knight whose face he could barely recall. Yet, so vividly, he could paint a picture of the Exalt’s visage within his mind. 

Releasing an unsteady breath, he rolled his shoulders back, relaxing his tense muscles, as he allowed his gaze to wander over the room to distract himself from his wandering thoughts. It was plain. The curtains to his right were sheer, allowing the room to be illuminated by the sun. The window was cracked open, blowing the thin fabric slowly against the glass panels. Creating shadows against the white sheets of the large bed in the center of the spacious room, yet this was not the only thing in the room. Shoved up against the north walls were boxes. Countless. Stacked up upon one another with various notes and tomes spilling out of them, and a collection of swords beside them. Judging from the amount of dust that had gathered upon the worn surfaces, and the number of bugs creeping out of their worn corners, it was for Robin to assume the room hadn’t been used in quite some time. For some reason this thought was unsettling to him, and he felt a shiver run along his spine. 

Brushing the uncomfortable sensation aside, he threw the sheets that had been tucked neatly around him off. Legs yanking themselves from the warmth of the bed to hang over its edge. There was a soreness about his body, and exhaustion was still clinging to him, yet he felt his gut tangling within him with the uneasy feeling that the nothingness of his memories brought with it. His bare feet brushed against the hard surface of the floor before he had more time to linger on that thought, slipping down from the bed. A hand reached out to run along the wall, as his gaze searched the room for his clothes. Spotting them folded neatly atop a small table not far from the bed. 

His fingers shifted through the pile, pulling out his pants and undershirt from it. Unsteady legs were shoved quickly into the pants, and he yanked on the shirt with little grace. Boots following suit. Ignoring the remainder of his clothing for the sake of his own movement, he made his way towards the shut door. Hand hesitating upon the doorknob. He brushed his free hand through his hair, allowing his fingertips to trace along the side of his face before it shifted across his arms. He could feel the dip of scars, and muscle, yet none of it felt familiar to him. Is this who he truly was? Why did the face of that man seem more familiar than his own? 

Sucking in a deep breath, he shoved the door open. Muscles in his hands tensing as it let out a creek, yet the noise didn’t appear to attract any attention, and he was free to slip out in the spacious hallway. His hand reached out to set itself upon the table beside his room, and he found his gaze lost traveling over the countless doors lined out around him. He took a step forward, allowing his fingers to ghost over the surface of the table as he did so; leaving behind the last bit of support he had been clinging to. The hall appeared endless in every direction, each spanning for what felt like miles to Robin, who was stationed in the very center of it. The white walls, blue rugs, and decorative tables began to blur together, and he found that he couldn’t keep track of anything in that maze. 

But a soft noise broke him from his confusion, ripping his attention away from the world around him. It was someone’s voice. He knew this voice, and he felt drawn to it. Before his mind even had time to register whose voice it was, his legs were moving in the direction of that damnable voice. Its sound like velvet against his ears. And he Halted before a door that looked almost the exact same as his own before he even had the chance to regret his choice to follow. A simple gold painted frame, plain detailing, and white paint now stood before him. Nothing about it stood out amongst the other, but Robin could hear that man’s voice within it. And against his better judgment, he slowly pushed open the door. Just barely enough for him to glance into it if he pressed his body against the frame. 

Through the thin crack, he couldn’t make out much other than the broad chest of the man nearest the opening. Dressed in familiar attire that Robin recognized in an instant as belonging to the Exalt. He could see the man’s tense muscles through his tight tunic. His chest moving in a hallow, shallow manner, creating a rather off beat breathing pattern to the point where Robin could hear, and nearly feel, his hot breath from where he stood beyond the door. 

“Milord, I speak only for your sake.” The firm, yet proper tone of the other man’s voice took Robin a moment to pick up on, but he could vaguely recall it as belonging to the knight that had come looking for the Exalt the other day. His lips pressed into a frown, at how harsh it sounded against his ears, and he found himself intimidated by it. 

“Then I preferred if you didn’t, Frederick,” Chrom’s voice spoke up, and Robin could see the muscles within the man’s arm tensing, pressing against his skin, as his hand rolled into a firm fist. 

“Forgive me, milord, but it is my position to protect you. I will protect you from him, regardless of your demands.” 

“Why are you acting this way?” Robin flinched at the harsh sound of Chrom’s raised voice. 

“We have no proof that this man is truly Robin, and if he is, milord, there is no grantee his memories will return to him. I do not wish to see you get hurt more than you already have.“ Robin’s body tensed. His lips pressed together, as he felt his heart skip a beat within his chest. They were talking about him. Why? 

“Enough.” Robin felt his foot slide back wit the desire to flee at the sound of Chrom’s shout, but the motion made his leg slip out from beneath him. Boot flying across the tiled floor, as he smacked his back hard against the thick surface. A hiss of pain slipped through clenched lips at the impact despite his best efforts to hold it in. The door was flung open before he even had the chance to scurry out of its path. 

“Robin, are you all right?” Chrom blurted out, stumbling over to the other man’s side with outstretched hands. And Robin found himself staring at him. Too caught up in the image of the other man’s face to resist the motion of Chrom grabbing hold of his shirt in order to pull him onto his trembling legs. Fingers tangling within the thin fabric to keep him upright, as he struggled to regain to his footing, even with Chrom holding him up. Robin’s shaky hands grabbed onto Chrom’s arm without thinking about it to keep himself from returning to the floor. Legs awkwardly placed beneath his body, as his gaze managed to wander from the comfort of Chrom’s face to the knight’s protective gaze in a sad attempt to reassure himself. 

“I’m fine,” Robin managed to choke out, yet Chrom could feel the warmth of his breath beating against his chest, and he found his hold upon the other man tightening instead of loosening. Eyes lingering for too long on the back of the former tactician’s head, and making a lump form deep within his throat. Teeth pressing into his bottom lip, as he felt his hands tremble against the other man, and slide from his shirt to his sides. 

A cough broke Chrom from his trance, and forced him to glance towards his knight. “Milord,” Frederick spoke firmly. Easing his hold on Robin, Chrom took a step back from him only releasing his grip when Robin let go of his arm. Unsteady on his feet, Chrom was ready to grab him once again, but Robin managed to regain his balance against the wall. 

“You look unwell. It would be best for you to return to your chamber for the time being.” 

“Right.” Robin nodded in response to Frederick’s words. Prying himself from the safety the wall in an attempt to stumble back towards his room, assuming he could even recall where it was with how his mind was spinning. 

“Robin, wait, I’ll come with you.” Chrom moved to the other man’s side, arm slipping around Robin’s waist, and pulling him close. Taking the burden of his weight upon his hips and legs in order to make the task of returning to his room easier. 

“Be careful, milord,” Came Frederick’s final say on the matter, as he turned away from the pair.


	4. From Me to You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter is short, and I had plans for it to be longer, but that line was the perfect stopping point.

“Did something happen between us?” Chrom’s hands froze upon Robin’s sides at the sound of those words. His own breath caught in his throat, and hesitation had clearly painted itself about the Exalt’s nervous features. Mouth slipping open slightly, as if to answer, but remaining motionless while his eyes were quick to remove themselves from Robin’s view. Cast downward at the details sewn into the other man’s shirt in an attempt to avoid the other man’s questioning look. His brows pulled together tightly at the uncomfortable sensation of his gut knotting in a thousand different ways while his mind began to spin. Had Robin overheard his conversation with Frederick, or was he starting to pick up on his overprotectiveness? Even worse, had he done something to make Robin suspicious of him?

Or, perhaps, he had recalled something? The very thought was enough to make Chrom’s heart skip a beat. It; however, was a theory he was quick to drown. Robin’s pervious memories had never returned to him during his first meeting with the strange man, and, while optimistic, he had faced countless struggles on his own since Robin’s disappearance. Memories, or lack there of, this man was the one who had fought beside him, and had sacrificed himself for the greater good. Regardless of Frederick’s words of warning, he had already convinced himself that this man was the Robin he had known. 

Pressuring Robin’s arms, he willed the other man to sit on the bed before straightening himself out. Taking a moment to collect himself, he offered his friend a gentle smile. His own suffering was nothing in contrast to the tactician’s. “I suppose you could say that.” Was the answer the Exalt decided upon. The bewildered look that met his own was enough to satisfy the Exalt for the time being. “Try to relax,” He said when the other failed to respond to his earlier statement. For now it was best if he allowed Robin to recover rather than pester him, or desperately attempt to restore his memories. 

“Thank you, Chrom.” Though the name sounded odd coming from Robin’s lips, as if he had hesitated to say it aloud. Chrom couldn’t stop a grin from growing upon his face. Turning from the former tactician stung, and tugged at the Exalt’s heart, yet he forced himself forward. Resisting the urge to glance back at the bed just to make sure Robin was still there. No matter the amount of times he tried to convince himself that Robin was here, he found the fear of losing him all over again looming over him constantly. Making slipping out of the other man’s room all the more difficult. Pushing the door shut behind him, Chrom leaned up against its worn frame. A sigh falling from lips, as a hand reached up to rub his face. He could feel the bags that had collected beneath his eyes, and the sunken frame of his once prideful visage done through the past two years of ignoring his own well-being. But above that, he could feel himself shaking. They could make it through this, couldn’t they? Or was that thought just selfish on his part? 

Robin’s gaze lingered on the door for a moment longer than he would cared to admit when the Exalt left him. Fumbling over the words the other had spoken in his mind, and he felt frustration begin to set in. Every damn time he saw that man’s face his heart sped up, and whenever he was away, he desired to be near him again. His name was so easy to say that it felt wrong, and he hated saying it. Even the other man’s mannerisms were more familiar to him than his own were. How? No matter how many times he hammered himself with the word, it did little to put him at ease. 

Taking his head within his hands, he ruffled his own hair, as he tried to dig through his mind for an answer to his budding questions. But this man was a stranger to him. This castle was new to him. And this room was completely unknown to him. That thought; however, sparked another within his mind, and he turned his head to gaze at the stack of boxes shoved up against the far wall. They had to have some purpose for being here. Stumbling out of the bed, he made his way over to the collection. He pulled the first box he could reach from the top of the pile, and flopped down on the floor with it. When he had first found himself in this room he had assumed the Exalt had been using it for storage, but now he was convinced there was something more to their being here. And he would take anything. Anything that could tell him how he knew this man. 

Ignoring the throbbing of his head, and aching of his body, he tore off the dusty top of the box. His nose wrinkled at the stench of mold clinging to the contents within, hesitating while still holding the lid in his hands before sucking in a deep breath, and taking out the contents. A collection of books. Some in better shape than others, but most of them had seen better days. Covered in dirt, mud, and grime, they felt greasy against his fingers. Their pages had yellowed with abuse, and a few of them were torn. Nothing impressive, but he found himself drawn to them regardless. His fingers ghosting over one in particular. So abused that its binding had fallen apart, but as he ran his fingertips through the pages he stopped suddenly, catching a glimpse of a dark color upon one of those worn surfaces. Opening the book to that page, he rubbed at the stain. Slightly sticky. A strong scent. Red. It was blood. 

He slammed the book shut, and threw it across the room in surprise, its contents scattering about the floor. Pages upon pages littered the ground. Its cover propped up against the door where he had flung it. Guilt weaved its way into his mind at the sight, and he forced himself onto his feet in order to gather up the remains. For all he knew this text could have value to its owner, or Chrom. Among the pages a collection of smaller pieces managed to steal his attention away from the ruined book. They has fallen out from where they had been stored when he had thrown the book. Crisp and crinkled notes sprawled on much smaller papers than the text of the book. Some still shoved into muddied envelopes. Curiosity outweighed his better judgment, and he gathered them all, setting them onto the bed before storing the book back into the box it had come from, along with the rest of the contents that had come from it. 

Settling back down upon the bed, he gathered up the letters that had fallen out of the book. Flipping them over to look for a name, but like the book, they had suffered a great deal. Much of their exterior was smudged, or damaged. They shared similar stains to the book, blood included. The only word he could use to describe them was eerie, but he managed to find one whose seal he could still make out. If it only barely. It simply read “For Chrom” in neat, careful handwriting. Instantly he regretted throwing the book across the room, dreading that it was something meaningful to the Exalt. Yet, the script upon its surface struck him as odd, far too elegant to belong to Chrom, and far too thoughtful to belong to the knight he had met. Those thoughts weighed heavily on his mind, and felt an overwhelming feeling of fear begin to fester within his stomach. No. It couldn’t. Yet, those words meant nothing. Swallowing hard, he leaned across the bed to yank pen and paper from the table beside it that had been left for him in the event he recalled anything. For Chrom had insisted that it was a possibility, and wanted him to record anything helpful. And with a shaky, unsteady hand, he sprawled the name ‘Chrom’ upon its clean surface. Setting it down beside the abused envelope. 

They were the same; this was his handwriting.


	5. Shallow Grave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which past Robin is the voice of reason, but current Robin can't make good choices to save his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Throwing another update at you guys since it's my birthday, and I thought it would be a nice way to celebrate at the end of the day. 
> 
> I ended up rewriting most of this chapter during editing, and I think the changes are much better than what I had. 
> 
> And thank you to everyone who takes time out of their days to read this story, leave kudos, bookmark it, comment on it, whatnot. It means so much to me. I'm blown away by the number of people reading this, and I truly hope it's been enjoyable for you.

Teeth sunk deep into his lip, as he clutched the pen tightly between his fingers. No matter how badly he wanted to tear his eyes from the name sprawled upon the letters, he couldn’t. “Chrom.” Hesitation, and then, “Chrom,” He repeated the name in a soft whisper until he wanted to find a way to use it to bash his own head in. If he hadn’t enjoyed the sound of the other man’s name, he was certain he could have considered never producing its sweet melody again.

Releasing a groan, he threw the pen onto the bed. Leaning back enough to arch his spine, he threaded his fingers through his hair. Ruffling it none too gently, as he buried his fingers into his scalp. His knees knocked, as they drew towards his chest with each new hole he was convinced he must have ripped in his hair.

Why? Why was it that nothing came to him? He knew this man. He had to. His stupid face was always so terribly vivid to him. But not even seeing the Exalt’s name written in his own handwriting could trigger anything from the depths of his non-existent memories. But there just had to be something. _Anything._ He was pleading to himself.

Allowing his hands to fall into his lap, he stared at the envelopes scattered around his legs. Fingers trailing over the worn paper, and hesitating upon spotting one of the many broken seals among them. Lips folding inward, fingers twitching above the envelope’s surface. _No._ He had no right to open it, and read whatever was written within it. Yet, the temptation was agonizing. What if these letters could tell him something, _anything,_ about his past? Even anything about himself. He was a stranger in his own skin, and he wanted so badly to feel a sense of belonging in this body of his.

He couldn’t, but he had to. “Forgive me,” With those words leaving his lips, he picked up the envelope. Fingers sliding beneath the seal, and peeling the cover back. Hand trembling all the while. Pulling out the letter, he carefully slipped his thumbs between the fold in order to press it open, as if it was some sort of scared document that must be handled with care. His eyes drew themselves first to the neat signature at the very bottom of the page. A lump formed in his throat upon seeing the name: _Robin._ He had never had a doubt in his mind, but even so, seeing his name etched into the parchment made his shoulders feel heavy. He could feel beads of sweat beginning to form on his face, and his hands were already a sticky mess. He forced down the creeping sensation of fear that had been clawing its way up his throat, and finally allowed himself to look at the remainder of the letter.

_Chrom,_

_I hope this letter finds you well, and that you are being careful (though, I suppose, I can count on Frederick to keep an eye on you in my stead). Repairs are going smoothly in Southtown currently, and I am happy to say that it’s well on its way to looking grand once again. So, I ask that you not spend your time worrying about ~~me~~ us. I’m afraid I don’t have much else to report, but, on the bright side, your standing with the people of Ylisse has improved greatly since, well, you know, the whole bandit issue (which by the way, I am still having a wonderful time explaining to the people). I am, though, exceedingly proud, and thankful, to say I have met you. _

_But as you know, this isn’t the only purpose of this letter. Discussing the matter I bought up before my departure is why I am writing. I apologize that I have upset you. I know my choice to come here with the soldiers was very sudden. If I am being honest, I miss you dearly, but my feelings are irrelevant now. Your happiness has always been my priority, and I have cherished every moment I have spent with you. I; however, have no desire to get in the way of the future of this kingdom. Your kingdom. Your future, Chrom. You deserve a happiness I cannot give you, and a life free of the hardships you would have endure if our relationship keeps moving as it has been._

_Although selfish, my feelings for you will not change. I doubt they ever will, no matter how many months, years, or even lifetimes pass me by, they will not change. Which is why, for your sake, I am begging you to consider your future. I will take all of the blame if you are ever to come under suspicion for my actions, if only you’ll listen to me this one time. Nothing good will come of us. If not for your sake, then consider it for the sake of Ylisse, and all its people. I beg you, drown these feelings you have for me, and continue on with your life as if nothing has happened between us._

_Please, take of yuourself,_

_Robin_

His hands were shaking now. Sweat seeping into the wrinkled paper held so tightly between his fingers that his palms were cramping. He could barely begin to tell if his heart was still beating, or simply beating so fast that it had made his chest numb to the pain of it smashing against his rib cage. His throat was unbearably dry, and worst of all, the back of his neck felt as if someone had set fire to it. His eyes remained glued to the letter before him, fingers not willing to release their hold on it despite his efforts. His tongue ran over his chapped lips, trying, in a desperate attempt, to make swallowing easier.

The contents of the letter were unknown to him. The names written within it, outside of the Exalt’s, were foreign to him. At some point in his life, he had written this letter, and it had ended up in Chrom’s hands. Even if the names meant nothing to him, even if the discussion confused him. He was intelligent enough to easily piece together the meaning behind the letter, and the words he had so carefully, passionately written to the Exalt.

He was terrified. He couldn’t even begin to doubt that these words were his. Somewhere, somehow, he knew they were. And Chrom, for a reason, had kept this letter. No, from the looks of it, he had kept every letter Robin had ever taken the time to write to him. But this one, this letter had been the one so worn that the seal that had once kept its opening shut had been rendered useless. The glue upon its back no longer even sticking to the paper below. How many times, he wondered, had Chrom read this letter. How long had he kept it? Why had he kept it? He knew the answer to that. It meant something to Chrom.

_He meant something to Chrom._

This letter couldn’t jog his memories. It couldn’t tell him his story, but his mind had already started picking up the pieces of the relationship he had once had with Chrom. This letter couldn’t talk to him. It couldn’t tell him all of his secrets. But _someone_ could.

Slipping the letter back into the envelope, he gathered all of the notes into his arms, and slipped out of the bed despite Chrom’s advice, and Frederick’s mistrustful nature. His feet scrapped along the same floor they had traveled upon only a few hours prior, and returned him straight into that confusing mess of a hall without a second thought, or a moment of doubt.

Hoping Naga herself would have mercy on him, and direct him towards the man he sought, he braved that hallway while his heart ran laps around his chest. Still shaking horribly, as he slowly ventured down the long path ahead of him. He was blessed with the time to rethink his decision, but instead all his mind could do was conjure up images of the Exalt’s face.

His wandering, as well as daydreaming; however, was cut short by the sound of footsteps. Heavy boots smacking against the smooth floor, and stealing his attention away from the object of his growing dread. The steps were too heavy to be Chrom’s, as the Exalt didn’t wear enough to armor to create such a defined noise. He hugged the letters close to his chest, and panic began to set in. He prayed his theory wrong, but he had no intention of sticking around to find out. He took off down the hallway, not wanting his little adventure to be cut as short as his staring contest with the hall had been, but the heavy steps turned into an awful clatter the moment he had taken off, only proving his fears to be true.

Sprinting through the hallway, he somehow, amazingly, managed to find its end, tearing out onto the large balcony it lead onto. Covered in a velvet, blue rug, and with golden railings, it opened down to a straight, and large staircase that slowly tapered onto the bottom level where a collection of people had gathered. Dressed in clothes Robin could have only dreamed of owning. Beyond them he could see a door, and in an instant, he knew the floor beneath him must have been the entrance into the awful castle. And, also, that something was happening down there. As well as the fact that he truly shouldn’t be here right now. But he didn’t have enough time to figure out what was taking place, or how to get back before the Exalt’s knight in shinning armor came storming after him. Turning to face the stern man, he found the other to be significantly closer than he had originally thought. Backing away to create some distance between them, Robin thrust his back into the hard railing for a pitiful sense of security.

“Is there a problem?” Came Frederick’s harsh voice, and Robin immediately disliked the callous, grating tone of the other man’s voice. And the way his lips tucked into a thin frown upon spotting the abused papers within his hands. Commanding eyes glaring down at him.

“No, I was only looking for Chrom,” Robin did his best to meet Frederick’s tone, but he fell short. He had neither the authority or right to do so. Instead he moved his hands behind his back, fingers turning a ghastly shade of white, as he clutched far too tightly onto those letters.

“Milord is busy. He cannot attend to you at the moment. You were told to return to your room.” Oh, he was in deep water with this man now, and he knew it. Hated it. He had never intended to make an enemy of the knight, but he done nothing right since arriving at the castle.

“Right,” He stammered out, “I’ll ask for him ano-“

“Robin?”

The only word that managed to creep into the tactician’s mind at the sound of that gentle, reassuring voice was: _shit._ It wasn’t exactly refined, but it most certainly described the look that crept onto Robin’s paling features. And slowly, ever so slowly, he titled his head, keeping Frederick within his field of vision as he did so, to glance down at the floor below. Spotting a streak of blue amongst the rest, along with the concerned gaze of the Exalt. The image of the other’s face making his hands ease up on the letters. He noticed the numerous looks of disgust that traveled towards from the people around Chrom on the bottom level, and felt a knot begin to form in his stomach.

It was only then that it dawned him; he looked awful. His face was an awkward shade of white, not one that looked healthy either, and beads of sweat clung to his skin, making his already disheveled hair stick to his forehead. He was hardly dressed when compared to the noble below. Undershirt slipping off of his damp shoulders, and pants loose around his thin waist. He wasn’t even wearing shoes, and at this point, his feet were almost blue from the bits of fuzz they had gathered from running across the countless rugs within the castle. His face flushed. At least that added a bit of color to his otherwise sickly appearance.

“I’m so sorry,” He breathed the words, as he turned his head away from Chrom, allowing Frederick to hear the phrase. The knight had enough consideration to step out of Robin’s path back to the safety of that hideous hallway. He pulled away from the railing only to discover that his hands were empty, and all color drained from his face. He had dropped the letters when Chrom had called out his name. Taking a deep breath, he kept his calm.

“Frederick,” He whispered. “The letters.” In an instant, the knight knew what he was implying, his eyes widening, as he dodged around Robin, and flew down the staircase. But it was too late, Chrom had already spotted them.

“Robin!”

_No. Please, stop. Don’t come. You can’t._

For lack of a better idea, the tactician blotted. 


	6. Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chrom, Robin, a dark room, and an overworked (probably underpaid) Frederick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean for the wait between this chapter and the last. I've had half of this written for ages, and things kept preventing me from finishing it. Also, thank you very much to the reader who pointed out my very awful typo in the last chapter. I do my best to proofread before posting, and I apologize very much for that typo. And, thank you to everyone who takes time out of their day to read this, or comment on it. It means a lot to me!

The sound of his own breathing overshadowed Chrom’s voice, as Robin stumbled over the slick ground. Bare feet scratching, and scrapping against the velvet rugs; out of sync with the heaving of his aching chest, and making him appear clumsy. His sore feet tripping over one another while they pounded at the tile, drowning out the sounds of disgust from below. Yet, his heart beat even louder than his breath, and tumbling feet, numbing his ears to the world outside of his own body. He knew how pointless his efforts were, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. Just how many times had he ruined Chrom’s life now? He wondered; he was afraid to find out. The desire he had to know more about himself was slipping through his damp fingers, and refocusing on getting as far as he possibly could from the Exalt before he ended up making a mistake they would surely regret. 

His unsteady legs were forced to an abrupt halt when something warm grabbed hold of his wrist, and clamped down. The tactician’s trembling body was quick to turn on the man, eye burning with heat, and fear as he met Chrom’s gentle gaze. Hand rolling into a fist, as the muscles in his arm strained against the warmth that was trapped between their skin. The bitterness in his own breath pushed past his torn lips, and every part of him wanted to pull away from the Exalt, but he never did. 

“Robin, are you all right?” Chrom’s voice penetrated the sound of the tactician’s heart, and he found himself hating it in every way. Its caring, but firm tone that sang out above everything else. As if he had heard it a million times before. As if that voice had brought him comfort countless times. As if that voice meant the entire world to him. And he wanted nothing more to hear it over, and over again until he could no longer bear it. Yet, while every instinct within his body wanted to be close to this man; to push through the air between them, every thought in his mind was screaming at him to get away; that this was a mistake. That all he could was bring suffering to this man who stood before him, with eyes so full of forgiveness and love for a man that couldn’t even remember him. 

“Robin, please say something.” That sweet voice spoke now on the verge of pleading. His passionate gaze watching him so strongly with nothing but undeterred affection, and attention. Lips so smooth that the words rolled off of them far more clearly than any Robin had heard before. The heat from this man’s unsteady palm slithered through his skin, and climbed up his arm into the rest of his body, making his being flush against the welcomed, but unwanted warmth. 

“Leave me alone,” Was all Robin could manage to spit out against the temptations of his own desire to be close to this man, and the guilt he felt for speaking to him in such a manner. Gaze ripping away from Chrom’s, as if staring at him any longer would completely destroy Robin where he just barely managed to remain standing. He hated those words. He hated himself, and he hated the way the hold Chrom had on his wrist loosened. Removing the comfort that the other man’s skin had brought him. His fingertips shook with the urge to reach out, and grab that hand he was so drawn to; to not allow that physical connection to be broken. 

“I’m sorry. This is my fault.” The Exalt pulled away from Robin. Guilt consumed Robin’s mind, as he felt the sorrow that radiated off of the man before him. His powerful shoulders hunched back, and his body looking so much smaller than it truly was, as if the weight upon his back was too great a burden for even a man as great as the Exalt. 

“No,” Robin found himself nearly shouting. His pitiful attempts to protect Chrom from himself; to understand why he had written those letters to this man, had only hurt the Exalt more. It was an unbearable feeling that pushed down upon Robin, as he desperately tried to explain himself, “I’m sorry, I didn’t-“ But, the little world he had built up around them was shattered by the familiar sound of boots smacking against the floor, forcing the words to retreat down Robin’s throat. 

“Would you be willing to hear me out?” Chrom stated quickly, working up courage where Robin found himself unable. His hand extended back towards Robin. And Robin found himself overwhelmed by his own faith in this man enough to nod in response to the words, just to feel the heat of the Exalt’s skin against his once again; a desire he gave into against his better judgment. Chrom’s hand firmly wrapping around his wrist, and he shuffled into the nearest room to escape from a very concerned, and likely exhausted knight. Robin felt himself tense against the door, as he heard the man’s footsteps slowly begin to storm past them. Breath trapped in his lungs until the sound of the man’s shoes had completely vanished. The knight made him uneasy, but he would be the first to admit that the man’s concerns were most likely well placed. 

“Robin,” The sound of Chrom’s voice snapped his attention back to the man beside him. The dimness of the unlit room casting long shadows along the man’s face. Combing over his thick jaw, the stiffness in his mouth, and the barely contained composure that kept Chrom’s features confident, yet gentle. Making the bags beneath the Exalt’s eyes look bigger, and more pronounced than they had been in the light. Digging deep hollows beneath his weary, watery eyes that looked damaged from appeared to be a near constant tiredness that consumed his entire being. Leaving the Exalt look vulnerable, and weak. “Did you read those letters?” 

Robin’s lips felt dry as the words left the other man’s mouth. He had to have already known the answer to that, so why did he even need to ask? “Yes. I went through the boxes in the room. I’m sorry,” He admitted, voice barely loud enough for the other to hear. He wanted to step away from Chrom, as if putting some distance between them would erase whatever relationship his past self had maintained with this man, but it wouldn’t. He might not have been able to recall it, but the burning of his skin beneath Chrom’s, the stench of his sweat that loomed in the air, and the sound of his voice; all of it was so familiar to him, and a part of him would yearn for those sensations no matter how much he tried to resist his temptations. 

“No, everything in that room is yours. So, it that room. From the time you had stayed here,” Chrom began. “I was hoping they would help jog your memory.” The spark that ignited, ever so slightly, upon Chrom’s dark features was enough to break Robin’s heart. There was a tint of hope; a lightness in his words, and in his voice as he spoke that rendered Robin nearly helpless at the thought of having to admit it had done everything but jog whatever murky memories were stowed away in his mind. 

He felt his gut knot, and his lips pulled back. Teeth clenching, as he could only manage to whisper, “I don’t remember anything.” He could see the other deflate at the words. The smile that had started to pull on his lips tugged down into a frown, and the light that had made his features glow vanished entirely. The hold he had on Robin loosened, his fingers trembling against his skin. 

“I see,” Chrom forced out. Mouth dry, and body heavy, as he pulled his hand away from Robin’s wrist. 

Fingers forming a fist, pressing hard into his palm, as his lips pulled against his teeth. Robin’s stiff, cold fingers snapped painfully from the comfort of the warmth his fist provided in order to grab hold of Chrom’s retreating hand. Wrapping around the Exalt’s fingers with what little strength Robin still managed to possess beneath Chrom’s defeated appearance. Moving forward to close the gap Chrom had left between them. 

“Chrom, I’m trying. I promise you, I’m trying,” He breathed, nearly exhaling against the other man’s neck, as he spoke. If he had chosen not to run away this time, he was going to see his actions through. He was tired of hurting this person. He was tired of running away; of pretending he didn’t want to be near this man. 

A thick lump formed in Chrom’s throat, and he felt a chill spread through his back at the sensation that sprinkled against his skin, but he found himself leaning into the heat of Robin’s breath despite the tenseness of his own body. 

“Chrom, tell me what happened.” The Exalt allowed Robin’s fingers to tangle around his; to push their hands between their bodies. He had an idea. The longing he felt towards this man was his reality, and one that couldn’t be denied. His mind might not have been able to recall the Exalt, but his body could. And it trembled with every sensation, feeling, and drive that consumed him while they stood so close. Of an overwhelming heat that wanted nothing more than to silence Robin’s doubts, and extinguish his fears, and he was about ready to allow it to do so.

Old feelings licked at the back of Chrom’s mind, as he felt Robin’s body linger mere inches, if that, away from his own. And he swallowed the awful clump that had choked down his words before. “Even if I told you what happened, you might still not remember anything. I don’t want you to have carry more burdens than you already do,” Chrom stated, attempting to regain his composure. 

Robin’s hold on Chrom’s hand tightened. “I know, but,” He found himself unable to speak the words he desired. He might not, but a part of him did. The part that desired this man. He pulled back slightly, giving the other just barely enough space to relax into. “When was the last time you looked at yourself?”

Confusion spread across the Exalt’s face. “What do you mean?” 

“You’re a wreck,” Robin stated bluntly, “Look at yourself, Chrom. I don’t know how long I’ve been gone. I don’t know what I was to you, and I don’t know what you’ve been through, but I can still what time has done to you, even without being here. Even without remembering anything.” 

“Robin-“

“Tell me. Show me. Let me take your burdens.” Oh, he very well knew what he was saying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should say something about what's coming in the next chapter, but you probably already know.


	7. Clarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know how to summarize this chapter. It's basically just smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unsure if I should leave a little warning here in the event that any of you read this at work or anything, but there's sexual content in this chapter. 
> 
> Thank you for reading. Your support, as always, means the world to me.

Unsteady hands reached out. Stiff, and burning as they hovered over the tactician’s back. Close enough to feel the coarse touch of the worn fabric hanging loosely from the man’s thin frame grating against his fingertips. Trembling, as his fingers curved inwards. Just barely, and ever so gently, settling against the small of Robin’s back. The man’s spine rubbing against his palms through his thin undershirt, making the heat radiating from Robin’s body nearly unbearable for the Exalt. His mouth was dry, and lips locked, yet his gaze never left the other man’s eyes. His thumbs slowly, carefully pressing into Robin’s back. Caressing the skin beneath his clothes. Hard and uncomfortable were the bones that pushed against his fingers. The touch forcing Chrom’s heart into the boiling pit of his stomach, as his mind raced with a million thoughts. All of them concerning the man before him. Time had not been kind to either one of them. A constant tiredness had consumed the Exalt, and neglect displayed itself upon the body of the man he still loved so dearly. And with his arms wrapped around Robin, he could just barely manage to choke back the immense amount of guilt he felt. This was the body of a vulnerable, weak man. So unlike the one that had been built up through years of war. And against the firmness of his own arms, Robin felt terribly fragile.

“This is my fault,” Chrom finally whispered. Fingers still trailing along Robin’s back, each touch melting the Exalt’s resolve. The eyes that looked back at him were unyielding, yet a part of them still painfully innocent. They didn’t display the scars of war such as his did. Pupils that lacked the intensity they once held. The fire, and determination that had driven Robin to sacrifice his own life were faint, yet they were still the same eyes he had always adored. A gaze that had always looked at him longingly, with so much trust and fondness that it shattered Chrom’s heart. Never again would he let that gaze falter. No, this time, he would protect Robin with everything he was. 

“Nothing is your fault.” Robin’s arms reached out, wrapping loosely around the Exalt’s neck. He could feel Chrom’s light touches about his back. They were tender and warm. Comforting, and only increasing the desire he felt to be close to this man. To be embraced by his heat, and immerse himself in the passion his body felt towards Chrom. To be held in the arms that made him feel so very safe, but it wasn’t enough. He needed to know _why_ he felt this way. “Chrom, will you tell me what happened?”

Those words felt like a hammer driving a thick nail through the Exalt’s heart. His lips quivered, and his caresses ceased for a moment. “Robin.” He drew the other close to him, powerful arms wrapping tightly around the smaller man. Head leaning forward to press against the softness of Robin’s hair, as if to reassure himself that the tactician was still very much there. “Please forgive me.” There was urgency in the way Chrom held him. Not tight enough that it hurt, but protective and feverish. Almost desperate. His body shook violently, as if he was terrified. And he was. Terrified of losing Robin again. Terrified of frightening him. Terrified that if he blurted everything out he would hurt him. “Give me more time.”

Hesitation found itself on Robin’s features, but it was brief. “All right.” Something about the way Chrom held him brought forth concern, and a tinge of fear regarding the memories he lacked. But he was content to allow Chrom to hold him like this, for now. Dismissing his own troubles, and focusing instead on the man before him. His head leaning forward to rest against the Exalt’s chest. Feeling the sensation of his breathing slowly moving up and down against him beside the beating of the heart tucked beneath his clothes. He leaned into the heat of the Exalt’s body, as his fingers gripped at Chrom. Pulling their bodies together, as Chrom’s hold eased. Fingers beginning to trail along the tactician’s back, easing him onto the floor, as Chrom gave in. He wanted to badly to be with Robin like this, and the temptation was no longer something he wished to resist.

Robin pulled away from Chrom’s chest. Leaning forward onto the man, as he brought their mouths together. Lips slipping across one another, as he pressed against Chrom. A warm wetness consuming Chrom’s mouth, as he pushed back until he could no longer hold it. Saliva dragging along their chins, as Chrom’s parted. His hot breath smacking steadily against Robin’s features. They shouldn’t do this. The thought only crossed Chrom’s mind for a moment before he was overwhelmed by the sensation of Robin against him. By his yearning, and need to have this man close to him. By his own desperation to solidify the fact that Robin was here with him again. Leaning forward to gingerly press his lips against Robin’s. Tongue gliding along the soft flesh, as Robin’s mouth parted. Allowing Chrom’s tongue to slide across his own. Robin’s brushing against it, slipping around within his mouth. Shifting against the kiss, Robin moved himself into Chrom’s lap, hands still resting around the Exalt’s neck, but their hold tightened, bringing them as close together as physically possible. 

Chrom’s fingers began to wander, tracing down to slip beneath the hem of Robin’s shirt. Burning against the tactician’s skin as they smoothed across hos body. Pressing along the indents from his rips, and rubbing along the grooves between them. Ghosting over every mark etched into the other man’s body. Every scar slipping past his roaming fingertips. Pushed on ever so gently by the Exalt’s hands. Everything Robin had endured now gliding across his palms. Every battle they had survived etched into the skin of a man who couldn’t even recall them, and all that he had suffered exposed itself in the condition his body was in. Only propelling Chrom against the other man. As if he needed to feel the warmth of Robin’s skin, and the beating of the tactician’s heart. He was alive. Robin was alive.

Soft kisses pressed against every inch of Robin’s face, as Chrom’s hands rubbed against the man’s chest. How badly he needed to be with this man expressing itself in the manner in which he touched him. Always careful. Always gentle. As if he held a lingering fear of Robin shattering beneath him. A fear of all of this being some sort of cruel dream. But the sensation of Robin’s skin, and lips were very much real. All of the memories, both good and bad, he had once shared with this man ran through his mind. His lips trailing downward, moving towards his neck, and halting at his collarbones. Hesitation showing in the way he hovered above the other’s skin.

“It’s fine,” Robin’s voice was raspy, as he leaned against the Exalt. Chrom’s lips pressed into the warmth of Robin’s skin. Tongue sliding over his exposed collarbone, as his mouth tightened around the area. Robin’s fingers locked together behind Chrom’s neck. Wiggling under the sensation of Chrom’s mouth sucking at his skin, as his head leaned against Chrom’s. Forehead pressing into the softness of the Exalt’s hair. His legs shifting against the Exalt’s. Rubbing himself against the other man’s leg.

Chrom’s hands shifted downward with his lips. Fingers slotting through Robin’s pants. Running along his hips, as they crept closer to the other man. Taking hold of him, and slowly sliding his fingers along him. Robin bit down on his lip, but a gasp still managed to slip from his mouth. Face heating up, as he pulled away. A thousand different shades of red gracing his visage, as widened eyes looked into Chrom’s. Chrom allowed a breathy laugh to escape his lips at the other man’s embarrassment. Hands pulling out of Robin’s pants to hold the other man’s face on each side. Pulling Robin’s head towards his. Noses brushing against one another, as Chrom set his forehead against the tactician’s. “I’ve missed you so much, Robin.” A gentle kiss settled against Robin’s lips before Chrom pulled away.

Robin fidgeted uncomfortably against Chrom’s leg. “S-Sorry,” He mumbled, glance turning away from Chrom in a sad attempt to hide the increasing redness of his skin.

“Don’t be.” His hands slipped back down. Placing Robin onto his back. Tugging down Robin’s clothing, and looming over him. White hair splayed out across the dark floor. Eyes damp. Lips wet. And Chrom could feel himself trembling. Sweat clinging to his hands, as he fumbled with his own clothes before Taking Robin into his arms, and onto his lap once again. Hands slipping between them, as he felt Robin’s hardness against his own. Seizing the other man within his hold. Unsteady, Robin’s hand moved to take hold of Chrom, as the other man moved against him. Fingers slipping over Chrom, as he felt every inch of him. Shaking, and gasping, as he felt Chrom’s own hand rubbing him, as his hips moved against Robin’s. The more he touched the tactician, the more the other man leaned into him, pressing them even closer together.

Robin’s voice sent shivers down Chrom’s spine. How long had it been? He couldn’t bear to allow the thought to linger. His attention fixed on Robin. On the way he moved. On the way the other man reached for him. On the heat their bodies created, as they smacked ungracefully against one another. On how beautiful Robin was. On how much he had missed him, and now, on how badly he yearned for him. On his desire to hold him, and never let him go. Never again. Yet, a nagging voice tucked away in the dark depths of Chrom’s mind whispered at him. This was wrong. But he couldn’t stop himself. His body moved on his own, and every part of him was still so madly in love with Robin that he fought back his doubts with ease that surprised even him. He would give anything to be with this man. He loved him. He always had. Always would. No matter how many years slipped by. No matter how many lifetimes they would hold. He would love this man.

His hand moving feverishly now. Each noise that escaped Robin’s lips, and the sensations of the tactician’s hold weakening moved Chrom forward. He could feel Robin swelling against him. His back arcing, and he could no longer hold himself. A warm, thick liquid spilled out over Chrom’s hands. Clinging to his skin, and sticking to him. The heat of Robin’s body increasing against his own, as he felt the other man’s chest heaving against his. Pants pushing past Robin’s mouth, as he leaned against Chrom. Trembling hand still, slowly, sliding across Chrom when the Exalt reached down. Taking Robin’s sticky hand in his own, and running them along himself. His own heart rate increasing rapidly, as he felt himself give against the sensation. Liquid seeping from him, as he moved their hands faster. Pressing harder until a thick liquid spilled onto them.

Releasing Robin’s hand from his, he held the other close. Robin’s breathing was thick, and his body heavy, as he leaned against Chrom. The Exalt shifted only slightly under the lighter man. Moving to lean up against the wall, and move Robin into a more comfortable position. His head resting against Chrom’s thigh, as the he combed his fingers gently through Robin’s damp hair. His touch soft, and soothing. And Chrom watched as Robin’s eyes slowly slipped shut and his breathing eased. He was just as beautiful as Chrom had recalled. Perhaps even more so, but he couldn’t prevent the frown that crept onto his lips. Robin had been through so much, and Chrom only had himself to blame for what the other man had endured.

And now, he would put him through more. He loved him. He always had. But the nagging voice at the back of his mind had turned into guilt. He had known this was wrong, but he hadn’t tried to stop. He didn’t turn the other man down. Even now, the feeling of Robin’s weight against him was something precious, fragile, and fleeting.

“I’m so sorry, Robin,” He breathed, but the tactician didn’t stir. His jaw clenched, as he leaned forward. Placing a light kiss on Robin’s forehead. There wasn’t a single part of him other than his conscience that regretted his actions. Robin felt so right against him. Being with him eased the pain that lingered in Chrom’s aching chest, and his desire to cradle this man. To hold him, and love him while he could. To spend the rest of his waking moments with this man. He leaned his head back against the wall. A sigh escaping his lips. It might have been wrong, but it had hardly been a mistake.

_I’m so sorry, Sumia._

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, since the cheating thing is coming up/is here now. I would like to that I like Sumia, and have nothing against her (or her ship with Chrom). I considered using the random town lady for Chrom's wife, but that felt cheap to me (and I also thought that would be boring for all of you to read), so in the end, I chose Sumia as I felt she best fit the role I needed. I will in no way bash the ship, or be disrespectful towards Sumia in my writing of her. I really do think she's an interesting character. 
> 
> Thank you for putting up with my random update schedule!


	8. Silhouette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin meets Sumia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day I will get better at naming chapters, today is not that day. 
> 
> I apologize for my inconsistent updating once again. I did National Novel Writing month last month, and it took up most of the free time I had to write, but I missed working on things here. Thank you for your patience, and support!

A steady, loud beat bounced off of tightly shut windows as a choir rang over the castle grounds. The mixed sounds of hooves smacking the ground, and wings beating the air collided with the joyous feel of the songs being played. Accompanied by shrill cheers that smashed against the already competing noises to create a cacophonous mess that forced a tired moan from Robin’s lips. Lazily rolling onto his side in an attempt to stare out of the trembling window, he pried his tired open. Regretting the choice the moment the sun’s bright glare consumed him. Snapping his eyes shut, he pressed his palms to his face, rubbing them against his skin, and through his hair before grasping the edges of his pillow to shove the fluffy object as hard against his ears as he could manage, but even that wasn’t enough to drown out the ungodly noises exploding from the exterior of the building. Loud enough that he couldn’t tell if the castle itself was shaking, or if he was truly still that exhausted.

Giving up on any hope of falling back asleep, he shoved himself up, and swallowed a lingering yawn. Slipping, rather ungracefully, out of the bed. He could feel every beat from the drums outside through the floor, as he walked over to where his clothes had been neatly folded. Resting upon the numerous boxes he had to work up the courage to shift through still despite being told everything within them technically belonged to him. But no matter how much Chrom encouraged him to look through his things, working up the nerve to do so was an entirely different story. He wanted to know more about Chrom, but his desire to learn more about himself was fleeting at best now. A part of himself that still clung to his lost memories lit up every moment he saw the Exalt, and he felt a strong sense of belonging when it came to just being around the other man. But his own desperation to recall his memories had been pushed aside by Chrom’s unwillingness to talk about them. Had he done something so awful, Chrom didn’t want to mention it?

Brushing the thoughts out of his wandering mind, and refocusing on the overpowering sound of the music outside to keep himself from falling right back into the pit of confusion and guilt that typically consumed him. He grabbed his worn undershirt from the pile, and lazily slipped into it before yanking on his pants, and tossing on his cloak. Fumbling through the messy boxes until he dug out his boots from a pile of books they had fallen onto, and forced them on against the horrifically terrifying swaying of the building. His motions were slow. Delayed by his own exhaustion, and the seemingly always lingering sensation of fear that had managed to become a constant part of his life since Chrom had fond him in that field. He felt that fear, and anxiety more now than he ever had before, at least in the handful of days he could actually recall existing. Picking up on Chrom’s own anxieties without truly noticing.

His hand reached for the door, stiff fingers hovering over the dusty knob, as he felt a shiver run down his spine. Lips pressing together in a firm line at the nagging voice in the back of his head: _If Frederick sees you, you are a dead man_. The image of the likely enraged knight passed through his mind with a chill that flowed through his entire body. The thought alone was enough to tempt his desire to crawl back into his bed, and pretend that he had possibly died to avoid facing Frederick. Drowning him in a guilt he didn’t quite understand knowing he would be lying to the man’s face if he did so happen to run into him.

He didn’t dislike Frederick, but there was a part of him that believed his every concern was warranted, and that the knight wasn’t simply overprotective in nature. Truly, he knew he could find the answer to Frederick’s fears shoved somewhere in the deep abyss of the boxes in his room, but he would be the first to admit himself a coward in that department. Combined with Chrom’s avoidance of the subject, it was an unsettling feeling that had nestled itself into Robin’s heart, and had little intention of leaving. He had a few ideas as to why Frederick seemed so stiff with him, but none of them he was willing to face. He was desperate to understand his former life, but at the same time he clung to the blissful ignorance that came with not knowing it. As if not knowing what he had done would somehow allow him to cling to Chrom all the more.

Pressing his teeth into his bottom lip, he cast aside his wandering thoughts, and shoved the door open. Half expecting Chrom’s knight in shinning armor to be waiting for him; prepared with a lecture and a half that would find a way to drown out the band. But the hall was completely empty despite the voices he could hear echoing down its tall walls. He could count more voices than he was willing to face beyond that hall, and one of them happened to belong to Frederick, whose booming tone managed to carry out over the rest despite its politeness. He would almost argue that the knight was in a good mood, and he most certainly had no desire to find out why.

The party from the other night flickered back into his mind. A memory he most certainly wished would vanish with everything else he was missing. The chance that it was still in full swing judging on the amount of noise around the entire castle made him turn quickly on his heels, and head away from the chatter. For Chrom’s sake, it was best he avoid whatever guests were still celebrating in the castle. He still hadn’t familiarized himself with the layout, but he felt slightly more at ease than he had before in the maze the hall created. Untouched by the party, it was peaceful compared to the rest of the building, but he couldn’t shake off the fear of hurting Chrom’s image again. Or worse, removing him from the party again. Regret had settled now, and all he could do was pray the situation had somehow been resolved by Frederick, because he had somehow convinced himself that the knight could handle anything thrown his way. But he most certainly wasn’t going to march himself back in there and make a complete fool out of himself and Chrom again.

His wandering carried him down the set of stairs at the end of the hall, and he managed to slip outside without disturbing the events taking place in the main part of the castle. From where he stood at the castle’s western side he could see countless people loitering outside of the gates at the front end of the castle. Dressed in clothes far more refined than his own, and carrying on pointless conversations Robin couldn’t hear from where he was. Their loud voices clashing with one another to the point where he could barely make out any differences between all of them. Mixing together in a massive soup that made his tired body quiver. But he found his gaze drawn to a familiar shade of blue amongst the large crowd. Dignified, and powerful, Chrom carried himself in a manner that impressed even Robin. As if to slap him with the obvious, but just now daunting, realization that Chrom was in fact the Exalt, the man turned in his direction. Face clear, and smooth with calm features that almost seemed horridly unlike the man he had come to know. His regal clothing falling about his shoulders perfectly, and swaying with each movement he made. Solid body standing straight, and lacking the pain that always seemed to come over the Exalt when Robin was with him. Holding conversations with these people like it was something he did everyday. Composed like this, Chrom looked as if he could rule the world. But when he was with Robin, Chrom always looked so worn, and beaten.

Guilt forced him to turn away, and he marched away from the front of the castle. Only focusing on locating somewhere far off where he could remain out of Chrom’s way, he dipped into the expansive garden at the back of the castle. Built up with high walls of flowers, and bushes, it was a maze of plants and trees that seemed almost out of place. Something clearly not amongst Chrom’s tastes, but had been tucked away there regardless. Beneath the sun, the flowers seemed to shine, and its borders provided prefect shelter from anyone who might be able to see him. Without placing much thought into it, he entered the massive garden. Following the slick, grass paths that were lined with various flowers he couldn’t even hope to begin to place a name to. Moving down the confusing path until it expended into an open area hidden within the maze. One that held a small pound, and massive tree that must have been aging for centuries now. Flowers of pink, yellow, and white dotted the ground around the pound and tree. Seated before the tree was a bench, and upon it was a woman.

Catching his breath in his throat, he took a step back. The sound of his boots sliding along the grass made the woman’s gaze rip away from the flower she had been holding, and Robin felt his heart skip a beat out of fear. Her dress didn’t appear as elegant as the others he had spotted, but she had an air about her that made her appear far more regal than any other woman he had seen with Chrom at the party.

“I’m sorry,” He spoke quickly, turning on his heels to rush out of the garden.

“Wait,” She called out, jumping from the bench when he had turned his back to her. “Robin?” Her voice picked up in a questioning tone, and kept him rooted in place, forcing him to turn to face her just in time to see her rushing over to him. Heels kicking up the dirt and grass beneath them, as she stumbled her way over to him. “Robin,” She called his name with such joy that he didn’t know how to react, but he clumsy steps were enough to terrify him. And he very much feared she would just plummet face first into the grass.

“Um,” Insightful, Robin, truly insightful. He lifted his hands up, as if preparing to catch her if she did fall, but inside she bounded over to him without returning to the Earth. Her petite hands grasping hold of his tightly, as a smile spread across her delicate features. Bright, and gentle it overtook her smooth features. Her eyes damp, and she almost appeared as if she was attempting to repress her excitement, but was failing to do so.  

“Oh, Robin, I’m so glad to get this chance to see you again. Frederick told me of your return. I’m so happy you’re back, and that you’re safe.” To say she was radiant wouldn’t have been over exaggerating, but all Robin could manage to do was to stare back at her dumbfounded, as a result. The look on his face seemed to trigger something in her, and she lit up a shade bright enough to put the flowers to shame. “I’m sorry,” She mumbled. “I had forgotten that you’ve lost your memories of then. I’m so sorry. My name is Sumia. We were friends.” Water had formed in the corners of her eyes, but she blinked it away, clutching Robin’s hands tightly as if to reassure herself he was truly standing there with her. She forced the smile back onto her lips, and willed away the pain that had formed on her features. 

“No, it’s fine. I’m sorry. I wish I could remember everything.” But he looked down when the words slipped from his lips. Did he truly want to remember everything? Did he truly want to know the reason Chrom refused to speak to him about his lost memories? A part of him knew the answer to that question, but he refused to admit it. It was frustrating, even more so after last night, but he found himself far more afraid than he had been before, as if knowing what had happened would completely ruin the comfort Chrom had given him the other night.

Sumia shook her head, pressuring his hands with hers, as if she somehow understood. “It’s all right if you don’t remember, I would like to become friends with you once again, Robin. If that’s okay with you.” He relaxed when she spoke. She was friendly, and picked up on his emotions easily, making her far easier to speak to than most of the people he had come across. 

“Thank you, Sumia.” He tried to return her smile, but the sound of heavy footsteps behind made his attention pull away from her, and his heart drop. Gaze falling upon Frederick, as he entered the small opening. 

“Milady, we’ve been searching for you.” He seemingly ignored Robin entirely, and that just put the former tactician even more on edge than he had been before. Solidifying his belief that Frederick had a lecture already prepared, and was saving it for the perfect moment.

“I’m sorry, Frederick. I needed a break from it.” She released her hold on Robin, walking unsteadily over to the knight, who seemed accustomed to her steps, and didn’t even bat an eye at them.

“The Queen should attend her own celebration, milady, the guests will worry if you are away.”

_Queen?_ After that word, nothing else managed to stick with Robin. The rest of their conversation had flown out the window, and he didn’t even register Sumia walking away from him. _Queen._ The word repeated in his mind, as if to dig the blade that had been dealt to him deeper and deeper into his throbbing heart. It was all he could think about, and the pain that single word had brought to his entire being was enough to make him tremble. Hand pressed so firmly against his chest, as if he was trying to keep his heart from breaking out of his skin and bone. _Queen._ No matter how many times that word continued to shred through his flesh, it kept screaming at him. Repeating over and over again until he could barely continue to tolerate it. So many times that it felt as if his mind might very well exhaust if he heard it just one more time.

_Chrom was married_. Accepting this fact was even more painful than hearing that damnable word. His teeth dig so deep into his skin that he could feel it breaking. An overwhelming feeling of guilt had rushed over him. Burying him. His hands rose, and he pressed his nails into his scalp, as if doing so would ease the pain making his head spin.

After everything he had said, and done, he had only hurt Chrom in the end. And now this woman had been dragged into his regret, and fears. He had wedged himself into Chrom’s life. A place where he had never belonged in the first place, and weighed heavily on his entire being.

The contents of the letter swirled through his head. Each line only adding to the pain that flowed through him. Clutching his head, he cursed himself in a soft voice; pressing so hard he felt his aching head would split at any given moment. Every word he had written seemed to be imprinted in his memory, as if to remind him that he had betrayed the person he had been. He had betrayed Chrom.

Swallowing the thick lump that had formed in his throat, he willed himself to look at Sumia’s retreating back. Her elegant dress fluttering at her heels, as she spoke freely to Frederick. Her bright features reflected in the sun, and against the flowers around her. One hand clutching onto the knight for support, her heels digging small holes into the earth below, and Frederick regarded her with a warmness he had only seen in the manner in which he spoke to Chrom. One that had never been, and would be, directed at him. And now he suddenly understood why.

Bracing himself for the anger that would boil from the knight, Robin dug through his burning throat to find the voice that had left him. “Sumia, wait.” His words were weak, but she heard them, stopping, she turned to him with a smile that only thrust the knife straight through his heart. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the lack of Chrom in this chapter. I wanted Robin and Sumia to meet without him there (Robin thought about him enough to make up for it, though, hopefully).


	9. To Let Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chrom. What Chrom? I also still can't title chapters to save my life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the lack of Chrom, again. I swear he'll come back. 
> 
> Thank you for the support, and for reading! It means a lot to me!

“Is everything all right?” Robin froze as the words left her mouth, and Frederick’s gaze upon him hardened. If he hadn’t wanted to murder the former tactician before, the knight most certainly did now, and it expressed itself so clearly upon Frederick’s face that Robin was forced to bite his lip. Choking down the words that were still lodged within his throat, not wanting to give the older man yet another reason to murder him. The words he had shoved down were clawing the inside of his throat raw, screaming at him from the depths of his mind; telling him that he deserved all of Frederick’s rage. That perhaps, he shouldn’t have been standing here right now; that he belonged in that field Chrom had found him for the rest of eternity.

He couldn’t tell her everything was fine, no matter the growing urge he held to tell her there was nothing wrong at all. It wasn’t, and she had every right to know. All of him wishing that he had thought his actions through just a little bit more than he had. But he couldn’t change what he had already done. He worked up what little courage still remained in his chest to force out the words, “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.” He couldn’t look her in the eyes as he spoke, and he could hardly bear Frederick’s intensity for even another second.

“Of course,” She responded eagerly, slipping away from Frederick at the first chance she had. “I’ll be back soon.” She waved a hand in his direction, as she stumbled over to Robin. Her smile forcing the stern frown upon the knight’s features to dissipate into only a mild line of annoyance, as he walked away without protesting the queen’s words. The tension in Robin’s body eased, and he found himself wondering, for the brief moment, that maybe he wouldn’t become the next thing Frederick was planning on spearing with the lance he was always totting around.

 “Thank you, I’m not very good with parties,” She breathed, leaning done to grasp the straps of her shoes, and unbuckling them. Sliding them off of her sore feet, and stepping out onto the soft earth. Her toes squishing into the warm dirt, as she felt it shift about her skin. Her fingers tightening around her heels, as she held them in her hand, embracing the sensation of the soil slotting between her toes, and the comfort of the earth against her flat heels. Stiff from the pressure of the awkward shoes she had been made to wear.

 She turned back to Robin. “Come with me. I would love to show you my garden.” Offering him a smile he couldn’t bring himself to say no to, as he forced himself to follow after her nimble frame. Her fingers extended from her side, running along the lush brushes at her side, feeling each and every chip in them. Almost as if she knew each and every branch like the back of her own hand. Leading him along, she danced around the petals, and leaves that had fallen upon the ground with her head held high towards the sky. Not daring to disturb her fallen children. Eyes slipping shut, as she breathed in. Inflating her lungs with the various scents that wafted through the garden. Walking, as if she knew exactly where she was by the smell alone. Her arms stretched out at her sides. Palms facing upwards to embrace the sensation of the wind around them. With the sounds of the party now distant from them, and lacking Frederick’s presence, the area was peaceful, and Robin could see the beauty in the life surrounding the queen. 

“Do you care for all of these flowers?” He asked, finding himself caught up in the moment. He could tell now why the garden had felt out of place to him. It didn’t belong to Chrom, it was of Sumia’s creation. Not that it surprised him. He somehow couldn’t picture the Exalt having much of a green thumb.

“Yes, but if I’m away, Frederick will take care of them.” Somehow, the thought of Frederick having any sort of talent with plants hadn’t crossed Robin’s mind, and, now that it had, he almost found the fact humorous. He could picture the grumpy man leaning over the colorful flowers with a bucket, and his ever-present lance in tow. And, of course, in the full suit of armor Robin had yet to ever see the knight out of. 

But the imagine didn’t linger for long, she turned to face him again, her hands folded behind her back, and her steps far more graceful than they had been wearing her shoes. “What did you want to talk to me about?” Her voice was kind, and it lacked any hit of ill-will towards him.

He swallowed thickly, as if he had just been reminded of his reason for keeping her from the celebration. He ran a hand through his hair in a growing frustration with himself, as he forced himself to heave out a “Well,” but it was the only word he managed to have the strength to say with her watching him before he felt all of the guilt he had been repressing rush back over him. Trying to calm the sound of his thumping heart, he choked out, “I’m sorry” in a soft tone that she wouldn’t have been able to hear if they had been closer to the party. 

The smile upon her face began to fade slowly, and she quickly turned her head away from Robin. Beautiful, smooth hair rolling in the wind against her back, as he heard her take a deep breath. Sucking in the scented air of the garden, as she managed to cling to her composure. She could feel the sensation of something biting away at her eyelids, but she blinked the bitter and salty sensation away. She steadied the shakiness of her own breathing, and of her trembling legs. Gaze fixing itself upon the flowers she loved so much. Digging through her entire being to find the voice that had yet to fail her.

“It’s all right, Robin. I forgive you.” His heart stopped. While he looked on with her in fear, and regret, she remained dignified. As if to make the distance he had already known was between them all the more apparent to him. Where he was a coward, she was brave. Where he was weak, she was strong. It stung. For the reason that he had so easily see her beside Chrom. Keeping afloat where he could not. 

“Sumia, I haven’t-“ The words stopped in his throat when she released the breath she had been holding. From where he stood, she appeared poised. He hated not having the chance to verbally admit to his crimes, but she didn’t allow him that. It was both merciful, and also crushing.

“I know what you’re going to say,” She began, finally stopping. The few feet between herself, and Robin felt like miles to the tactician, and he couldn’t have reached her even he had tried. “And I forgive you.” Her voice was composed, and she spoke with such strength that it was as if nothing at all had happened, and that she didn’t very much care had something happened. 

She brought her hand to her chest. Palm flat against her breast, as she felt the beating of her own heart through her flesh, and the fabric of her dress. “Chrom has loved only you for a long time. Frederick has even told me that he may have loved you from the very moment he took you from that field the first time.” Her fingers rolled into a fist against her chest, but the words weren’t painful for her to say. Having always been aware of it somewhere in the back of her head, they were a relief to finally be admitting to someone other than herself.

“I loved Chrom at one point, too.” This too, felt so very freeing to admit. “But I’ve seen him with, and without you in his life. The years he spent with you, he was brilliant, but the years he spent without you, he was weak. I’ve always thought, even since the day we married, that he really belonged with you. I always wondered why he had chosen to marry me. I spent many years what had driven him to make that choice, but after I read all of the letters you two wrote one another, I realized you had done this for me.” She didn’t speak with hatred, only with kindness. It was something she knew the man he had once been had tried to for her; his last wish for the two people that meant the most to him in the world, was for them to find happiness together somehow. She couldn’t be angry at him for trying to help them.

She turned to him. A smile upon her features; one that somehow seemed so much brighter than any Robin had seen before. “I’m so grateful to you, Robin, for what you did for me, and for Chrom, but I’m also so sorry that you had to suffer because of me,” Her voice was shaking now, but he could hear the firmness in her tone. “I loved Chrom once, but I haven’t loved him since you left us.” He could only stare at her. Only try to meet her gaze. 

“Sumia, I’m so sorry.” She shook her head, and he could feel his heart ache, as if someone was clutching it within their fist, and squeezing as hard as they could. But it would have been his own hand that made it throb so painfully. He hated not having the courage to read his letters. He hated himself for coming back into the lives of two people his former self had tried so hard to make happy. He felt as if he had betrayed himself, and his sincerest feelings. 

“I’m so much happier now that you’ve come back to us. I’d much rather have my best friend here than pretend my relationship with Chrom is the same as it was years ago.” Even though her voice filled the air, it was weak when compared to the sound of his breathing. To the sounds in his head. The ones that yelled, and screamed. Making sounds that were hardly human, as whatever was caged away with his dormant memories was nothing more than a beast. A beast that that made his head spin, and grieve.

She crossed over the distance she had placed between them. He went rigid, wanting to protest the action, as if someone so kind shouldn’t be allowed any closer to him. But she extended her arms before he could find his voice. Reaching up to wrap them around his back, and pulling him so close to her that he could feel her head against his. “Welcome home, Robin.”

 


	10. Heartbeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin remembers something from his past that makes him rethink everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chrom's back! 
> 
> Thank you so much for the support, and for reading! It means a lot to me!

Darkness loomed overhead. Illuminated only by the dim, purple flames that dotted the colorful floor. Casting deep shadows along its rich surface, highlighting the greens and reds that mixed together upon the ground, making it difficult to see anything beyond the center of that strange room. But even that was clouded in shadow from the bright, violet flame that burned in the heart of the smaller fires. So bright, that is almost felt as if it would draw him in at any moment. And if he stared too long, he feared it would rob him of the soul tightly locked within his body. He could feel its heat beating against his chest, but try as he might he couldn’t move. Fear, and dread mixed together within his brain. Consuming his dark thoughts. The throbbing within his head intensified with every second that seemed to tick by so carelessly.

“Robin, Let’s go.” He squeezed his eyes shut momentarily to block out the flames, and turned towards Chrom’s warm voice beside him. He could barely make out Chrom in the darkness, flames flickering across his face, as they swayed in the quiet room. As if sensing his hesitation, Chrom turned to face him. And Robin felt himself swell up as the sight of the Exalt. He looked so very confident, and sure of himself, or rather, of Robin. There was power in the way he stood, and in his ever-fearless presence. Sweat had collected on his face, and his chest heaved slowly. His body must have felt as if it were on fire. He had fought so hard up until now that Robin had almost forgotten that Chrom was, in fact, somehow, still human through everything.

“Right.” He forced a smile onto his lips. He had always felt, since the day he had met this man, that Chrom could do anything. And it might just have been wishful thinking on his part that made him feel as if Chrom was invincible. Even now, though, it was this thought that drove him to take the first step towards the flame. So long as Chrom was there, he could do anything, because if he understood one thing, it was that he had to protect Chrom. That Chrom had to live through this; through everything, and Robin would have done anything to ensure that. Even if it meant giving his own life, or taking the life of another. If he had to kill a thousand people to ensure Chrom would live, he wouldn’t have hesitated. After all, this was war, and he had already killed too many to count for the Exalt’s sake. And he would do it all over again. And again.

He could make out Validar’s figure beside the flame. His face darkened, and difficult to see, but he somehow didn’t feel so horribly dreadful to Robin now, as he had before. Looking at him made Robin sick, but for so many reasons he couldn’t bring himself to even say why anymore. But there was a smile on his bony features, and it made his stomach churn. He hated this man.

“This is where it ends,” Chrom’s voice carried over the room, and he charged at the man.

“Chrom wait!” A thousand thoughts ran through his head, as he watched the Exalt lift his sword, but none of them were comforting. He rushed after the other man. Watching as an explosion of color surrounded Chrom. Closing Chrom off from Robin for a handful of painfully miserable seconds where the light was so blinding that he couldn’t see anything around him. Not even the fingers on his own two hands. He felt his heart stop, and he was reminded for the hundredth time that day that no matter how strong Chrom seemed, he was still human.

But when darkness overcame the blinding light, Chrom was still standing, as was Validar. Blood soaking through his cloak, as his long fingers pressed hard against it. Anger filtering through his features. Hot breaths beat past Chrom’s lips, and he was hunched over slightly, but otherwise, he appeared no worse for ware. Robin rushed to Chrom’s side, ignoring the danger he was placing himself in.

“Everything will be all right,” He breathed. He wasn’t confident in himself, but he slipped an arm around Chrom to help him stand straight. All he could do now was try to protect Chrom. Sucking in a deep breath, he held his hand out. Palm facing towards the man he hated so. Feeling the heat against his skin, as it burst into lightning. Slamming hard into Validar’s wounded body. With a hoarse shout the man fell to the ground in fiery heap.

But before he could stall the frantic beating of his heart, he heard Validar’s raspy voice ring through the air. Looking up just in time to spot the bight, purple light that ripped from his falling hand, and rushed towards them; towards Chrom. Without much thought, Robin broke away from Chrom, shoving him out of the way, as the burning light rushed through his own body. His arms and legs went numb, and he didn’t feel the impact his knees made when they slammed against the ground, or when his back hit Chrom’s arms. Everything was blurry, but he could feel Chrom’s warmth beside him, and that was enough for Robin.

 “Robin, hold on,” The pleading tone in the other man’s voice shattered the silence that had been ringing in Robin’s ears, but it only made the aching in his head all the more painful. As if someone was striking his skull over and over again. He held his breath, and closed his eyes. The sound of Chrom’s voice echoing in the back of his mind until it began to shift into something different. Turning raspy, and harsh within his mind. Red streaks flashed before his vision. Lighting the darkness behind his eyelids in a bright crimson scar. He felt power surge through him. His arms trembling, as he felt something hot against his palm.

The sensation forced his eyes open. Static clinging to his glove, as he wrapped his fingers into a fist, as it to ensure that they were his own. His gaze trailed from the ground to Chrom. His heart stopping. Lodged within the man’s chest was a bolt of lightning. Blood oozing out from the wound that had been drilled into his chest. “Chrom!” He shouted, stumbling to his feet towards the man.

“This is not your fault,” Chrom choked out the words, resisting the pain that surged through his entire body, as if he could will it away through determination alone. But it wasn’t enough. His legs were weak, and they couldn’t hold the weight of his body, slowly letting him meet the ground.

“Chrom! Oh gods, Chrom, please!”

 

XXX

 

Pale hands plunged into the chilled water. Numbing the horrid heat that was running through his entire body. He flexed his fingers beneath water’s clear surface, as if to remind him that these hands were his own. Reflecting his face in the dim light that shown from the moon above. Sweat made his hair cling to his forehead, and exhaustion plagued his face. Creases beneath his weary eyes that flowed gently on the water’s rolling surface made his lips curl into a frown. Choking down the heat, and bile that had collected in his throat for what must have been the millionth time in the past few minutes alone. His head throbbing so much that it was becoming increasingly difficult to swallow the pain, and fear that was already threatening to creep back up his mouth again.

He let out a deep breath. _It was only a dream._ But somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew it hadn’t been. _It was a memory._ He yanked his trembling hands out of the water, and shoved his head under. Silencing the thoughts that were racing through his mind with the water lodging into his ears, and the chill that pricked at his skin. Feeling the murky memories leave him, as he kept himself under. Eyes squeezing shut, as the water pushed against his face. Washing away the sweat that had clung to his skin, and sucking the air from his lungs until they burned so badly he was forced to pull his head from the water’s comfort.

His hair clung to his skin, sticking to the back of his neck. Water dripped down onto his undershirt, and chest, running across his stomach, as it slipped onto his pants, and the ground beneath his unsteady feet. His soaked hands gripped tightly to the rocks nestled around the pound. Everything burned. He felt like he was on fire. But at the same time he felt like he was drowning, and all of it was so painful he couldn’t make heads nor tails of himself.

He grit his teeth. Opening his eyes to stare at his miserable reflection. But he could feel the heat rising in his throat all over again, and he tried to choke it back down, but this time he couldn’t. He lurched forward, spit, water, and bile mixing together onto the rocks before him. Fingers tightening around the mud, as a weak curse left his lips, and he rolled over onto the ground. Head leaning back into the water, as he glared at the dark sky above him. How could he have ever hurt Chrom? Why was this the first thing he had to remember? A part of him still hoped it was a dream, but that was naïve. He hated it.

He heard the grass crunch beneath someone’s feet, and he sat up quickly. His heart leapt into his throat, and he felt as if he might just die where he was. “Chrom,” He breathed. Voice hoarse, as the other man approached him, likely having heard him when he had run out of his room.

“Robin, are you all right?” Surprise managed to creep into the Exalt’s voice, as he knelt down in front of the former tactician. But Robin couldn’t look him in the eye. Unable to muster up the will to answer his question. Chrom reached out for him. His hand almost grasping Robin’s shoulder, but Robin swatted it away.

“I’m sorry, but,” He breathed. “I don’t understand what’s happening to me.” He drew his hands up, burying his face into his damp palms. Praying that if he pushed Chrom away, he would leave him to sort out his own thoughts.

Chrom’s arm fell to his side listlessly. “Robin, what happened?” He wanted to badly to reach out, and embrace the man before him, but he resisted that urge. Yet, seeing Robin so upset was enough to break his heart. 

“Nothing.” But he couldn’t lift his head from the warmth of his own hands, as he mumbled the word into his palm. He just wanted the Exalt to leave. If he had betrayed the man in the past, what was stopping him from doing the same thing now? He loved Chrom then. As he loved now. And it hadn’t been enough. This time wouldn’t be different, and the hatred for himself that brewed in the back of his mind made his entire body throb.

 “Robin, please.” Chrom reached out again, settling his hand on Robin’s shoulder.

 “Chrom, please don’t.” He bit his lip, as he felt Chrom’s hand retreat. “I’m sorry. Please don’t come near me.” He pulled his face away from his hands. Feeling the stinging sensation of a salty liquid flowing against his cheeks, as he finally looked at Chrom. “I can’t trust myself anymore.” He shook his head, eyes squeezing shut, as if he was trying to will away the image of Chrom before him.

“Did you,” Chrom hesitated. “Did you remember something?” The hope that crept in his voice was almost enough to make Robin sick all over again.

Robin took a deep breath, but it couldn’t stop his voice from cracking. “I think.” 

“What?” 

“I’ve hurt you before, Chrom. I’ve betrayed you before. What if it happens again?” Robin pleaded, but he was nearly shouting. Chrom was right in front of him, but he felt so far away from him. He wanted to embrace Chrom, but that right had been robbed of him the moment that memory had crept back into his mind. 

“That wasn’t your fault, Robin. You were-“ Chrom’s voice fell short. He extended his hand, settling his palm against Robin’s check. His skin was boiling hot against his palm, despite its dampness. Hot enough that Chrom wanted to remove his hand, but he didn’t budge. His thumb slowly rubbing against Robin’s check. Wiping away the dirt that had collected upon his skin from the garden’s pound.

“I was what!” He leaned into Chrom’s touch. Mouth snapping shut the moment the words had left him. He wasn’t angry with Chrom, yet the rage he felt towards himself wouldn’t remain out of his voice.

“Validar was controlling you.” Despite Robin’s tone, Chrom was calm. He shifted closer to the other man. Running his hand behind Robin’s head, and drawing him close. “But it’s all right now. The wound healed years ago, Robin. It’s in the past now.”

Lifting his hands from the ground, Robin pressed them against Chrom’s chest. Weakly attempting to push the other man away from him, but he lacked the strength and will to do so. “It’s not all right. I must have remembered it for a reason.” He pressed his lips together. His hands shaking against Chrom. “I don’t want to hurt you again, Chrom.”

“You won’t. Everything will be all right, this time.” Robin shook his head. Fingers tightening around Chrom’s tunic, as he pressed his head to the other man’s chest. Feeling the slow, calm thumping of Chrom’s heart against his ears.

“How do you know?”

“I won’t let it happen. I won’t let anything happen to you.” He lowered his hand, grasping Robin’s, and prying his fingers from his shirt. “I’ve lost you once, Robin, and I don’t ever want to lose you again.”


End file.
